


Hidden

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: A New Start [6]
Category: Belgravia (TV)
Genre: 1840s London, Belonging, Class Differences, Friendship, Gen, Redemption, Servants, Serving Classes, Victorian Philanthropy, below stairs, victorian london
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: What once was hidden is no longer so...-A plan to boost his meagre pension fund and to give him a comfortable life after retirement has all gone terribly wrong for charismatic butler Turton! He's been given the old 'heave ho', kicked out on his ear with only the most basic of references. What is he going to do next?The lone wolf that is Amos Turton has to start all over again. Learning how to fit into this new, weird household is tricky when you're used to following your own rules. Within the confines of the rigid Victorian class system of course. Well, mostly... He's keeping quiet, biding his time and thinking of the money and his pension pot!Victorian London is really not a kind place for the serving classes and definitely not a good place to be destitute and poor. Which he is in danger of becoming...-Set in the Belgravia - TV Series and Book verse. All this takes place after episode 6 - the finale of the TV series - and after the book has finished.It is the early 1840s.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!
Series: A New Start [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014321
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Hidden

Amos Turton contentedly strolled through the park. He relished a leisurely walk on this, his Sunday afternoon off. It was now his prime way of letting off steam and relaxing. Before, in the Trenchard's employ, he would go to the Horse and Groom and down half a bottle of gin. He would sit alone at a table quietly seething at the weekly injustices which were, in his eyes, specifically sent to annoy only him. Now though, he walked. He walked through the beautiful park observing all around him. He took everything in while carefully making note of all the changes from his tour last week – the different people, the altered or replaced plants and flowers, any new ducks on the Serpentine.

He enjoyed 'people watching' as he peregrinated around the park. He grouped the usual suspects that he observed into several main groups.

There were the nannies - always pushing or tugging along their small, often noisy charges. The most easily managed ones, in his opinion, were the tiny babes, still able to be sequestered away in a pram. Pushed around by their nannies who he would often see sat on a bench, reading as they gently rocked the pram and child. Some small children cheerfully skipped along next to their nanny. Those would offer him a merry 'hullo' which he would reply with a polite nod. He heartily approved of their well-behaved manners.

Others were not so disciplined. Some he'd seen angrily tugging on their poor nanny, fighting against her grasp. Pulling back, shouting with a great temper as they struggled with their put-upon nursemaid. He watched, aghast, as that poor unfortunate woman had to resort to dragging her reluctant charge around. Often just giving up, to turn tail and head straight back to wherever their home was situated. He'd shuddered as he watched such bad behaviour.

He didn't really know what to do with or around children. His Ladyship had hinted that he might have to, at some point, look after her two small ones if necessary, as they were such a small household. They'd seemed well behaved from what little he'd observed. _But then, you never can tell._ He'd escaped from that onerous baby sitting task so far and had no intention of actually being lumbered with it! _Not if I can bloodwell help it,_ he thought.

And then there were the blasted dogs. Well, not so much the infernal animals themselves, more the bloody owners who couldn't properly control them. If he wanted dirt trailed all over his freshly laundered and pressed suit, then he would have happily just rolled around in the flower borders himself. The owners should know better than to let their spoilt creatures, with their horrid, dirty mud covered paws, jump up all over him. He usually went out of his way to avoid any idiot owners and their dogs if he saw any walking towards him.

He'd once resorted to taking a diversion all the way back around the Serpentine when he saw one particularly sodden beast heading towards him. Even though he was halfway across the bridge already, he'd turned right around and walked back all the way he'd just came. He was late back for tea that day and had to endure Mrs Brown's questions along the embarrassing line of 'was he stepping out with someone'. His silence had only served to egg the annoying woman on further, much to his chagrin.

Today though, couples seemed to be everywhere he looked. Young couples, old couples, everywhere bloody in between couples. He supposed that he was possibly the only single man in the entirety of the park today! He huffed, annoyed with it all. His earlier jovial mood had vanished along with all the overly affectionate couple's sense of decorum! He frowned and tutted, irritated with all the unwarranted displays of public affection going on around him. A tiny part of him tugged at his conscience and whispered that he was only bothered because he wasn't in a couple himself. He quickly shooed that thought away before it could grow. He was far too set in his ways now, too much of a solitary figure to be able to change his ways for a _relationship_. Wasn't he? He shook his head, jolting that worrisome thought away as it resurfaced to snap at him. He skirted around a particularly amorous couple. They were walking along so slowly that they may as well have been standing still! He guessed that the nannies would have more small charges to fuss over soon… _It was spring_ he supposed. _But honestly! Such displays were completely unwarranted!_

-

Skirting along a particularly flamboyant flower bed, he was reminded of the main reason that he loved to trail around the park. He could, mostly, put up with all the annoyances that he came across to indulge his hidden obsession. It was something that had started when he was small; something that had come to be used as an excuse for his mother and himself to escape from the oppression of his father's strict religious beliefs. It was now transformed into a secret hobby that he loved to cosset himself in. One he'd never told anyone about.

Taking in all the various, beautiful spring blooms abundantly on display, he carefully watched and glanced around him as he continued his gentle journey:the glorious gerberas, happy smiley faces waving at him in the gentle breeze; the tiny forget-me-nots, myriad tiny blue pinpoints, spreading and threading themselves around the other plants; all the delightful daffodils, in every shade of sunny yellow and orange;bright blood red tulips were dotted around the borders standing tall and upright, strikingly bold. He noticed a small clump of Lily-of-the-Valleys - small white flowers with an utterly delicious scent. He knew that they were popular in bridal bouquets. “Probably plenty of those soon...” he grumbled to no one in particular. He hoped that no one would deliberately pull up these small delights for that purpose.

He carried on with his walk, dodging and detouring around all the annoyances while trying to take note of the floral presentations. He had wasted so much time avoiding the multitude of aggravations that he was running out of time. He checked his pocket watch and decided to turn back and head for home.

As he spun on his heel, something caught his eye. He'd not usually want to get his ever-immaculate shoes muddy, but he just had to get a closer look, dirty shoes be damned! He could now just make out what he thought were possibly small pink flowers waving invitingly over to him. They peeked out from between and behind a small glade of trees, whose branches alternately hid and revealed the objects of his quest as the gentle zephyr moved them.

He continued through the grass, gingerly stepping his way towards where the glade stood, near the tall brick wall that marked the boundary of the park. He stopped. He saw that hiding within the tall silver birches were indeed delicate pink flowers. He took a few steps closer. He could clearly see that a beautiful pink dogwood rose in full bloom was hiding among the trees. It had tangled itself upwards, scrambling up and around the delicate silver trunks and branches. _A marvel!_ It completely halted him in his tracks, he'd not seen such lush roses yet this year. He stood still, frozen on the spot. _Such lovely pink tinged blooms!_ They were calling him nearer, drawing him closer still, like a moth to a flame. He needed to get closer. He took a step forwards and pushed himself in between the trees.

He turned his head, looking around him. No one was nearby, and he was somewhat hidden by being off the path and in between the trees. He approached the wondrous thing, wishing to admire the flowers in as much detail as he could. Surreptitiously glancing about, he checked again to see if anyone else was close to where he stood. He didn't want to be seen by anyone as he indulged himself. He fervently checked all around to see if anyone could possibly overlook him as he satiated his secret passion.

He crept closer to his beautiful target, edging forward until he was near enough to examine the delightful flowers more closely.

He ran his eyes over and along the glorious plant, examining each bloom in turn. He searched. He knew exactly what he sought, what he wanted to see. _Ah! Success!_ He beamed widely as he finally found the object that he was seeking. Reaching out towards it gingerly, he gently touched what he considered to be perfection. The ideal specimen. He lifted it lovingly, holding it carefully upwards. A contented smile was on his face. He took one final long check all around him, glancing about, double checking again for onlookers. The coast was clear! He brought the beautiful flower up towards his face and drank in its luxurious scent. His eyes closed in sheer pleasure.

He sighed happily and let go of the lovely bloom. He searched again, identified and picked a small perfect bud to put in his buttonhole, then he continued his way. The earlier distractions and annoyances he encountered on his stroll were all forgotten,vanished away by the sight of the most beautiful flowers.

A wide smile on his face and a jaunty spring in his step were now evident upon his person as he made his way back. Anyone who thought they knew him would have completely dismissed this vision as just that. A vision, and not the real Mr Turton. That grouch of a man would never be actually smiling and happy! Would he?

-

The account books really were a complete and utter mess! Just as his Mistress had implied they would be when he'd started in her employ. Ever the perfectionist, he was absolutely determined to correct these errors for her, to both his and her satisfaction. Since taking over the account books, he'd taken a keen interest in getting things back on an even keel money-wise. He felt that it was his chance at redemption for his previous misdeed. He also owed it to her Ladyship for her belief in him.

One of the upshots of tidying up the accounts was that he was currently traipsing around Covent Garden market to fix a problem he'd come across and also because he'd been sent on an errand by Mrs Morgan.

He'd approached her Ladyship earlier in the week, finding her in the library, sitting at her favourite spot on the sofa – the seat by the window. He'd informed her that the weekly grocer's bill was an exorbitantly high amount of money. It was far too steep in his estimation. It wasn't that it couldn't be afforded, it was just that, in his opinion, her Ladyship was being seriously overcharged and being taken advantage of. He'd already had a quiet discussion with the butcher over his prices; he'd also threatened the fishmonger with the peelers for charging for items not received. He'd happily have let these things slip as 'just something that happened', as an 'acceptable loss', If they'd occurred while he was employed by the Trenchards. He would not have been annoyed in the same way that he was now. After all, he'd himself sold the odd joint of the Trenchard’s meat and bottle of wine for his own purse. But he couldn't allow similar 'slippages' to happen here. Not when he'd been given a second chance.

So, here he was, in front of the lady Morgan, placing a request to find a new grocer. He'd already checked the nearby ones, and their prices were similarly outrageous. So, he suggested that she took a trip to the big Covent Garden market to seek out a more reasonable supplier.

She'd gone into the old desk in the corner and extracted a bundle of notes.

"No. Not me. I'd rather you did that for me instead. I'd only get bamboozled again," she thrust the roll of money into his surprised hands. "For you, Mr Turton. For a cab. There and back. And for any up-front fees that you may need to pay for any arrangements," she explained.

He looked at the money and sucked in a breath. He'd never held such a large sum before: the best part of one hundred pounds. Over twice his annual salary. He counted out forty pounds and handed the rest back to her.

"I'll not be needing so much, Ma'am," he said.

She smiled widely at him. He felt like he'd passed some monumental test, both with coming to her in the first place about the grocer and by handing the money back. It made him feel warm inside. Butterflies floated in his tummy. He'd not felt such, what was it? A thrill? Happiness? Fulfillment? Not even when he'd managed to get a really good price on a mutton hock in the Horse and Groom had he felt such a thing. Not even when he'd received a hugely generous sum that had added to his pension pot considerably had he felt so exhilarated. He finally pinned the feelings down. It was not due to the thrill of extra money, it was, instead, the thrill of knowing that he was trusted. The joy of knowing his judgement wasn't questioned and checked at every turn. The happiness that he'd passed whatever test was needed to be able to confront his Mistress and know that he'd personally be able to remedy this problem for her. He'd not felt such keen loyalty towards an employer since… well he couldn't remember? Definitely not in the ten long years that he had been employed with the Trenchards. That stay had only soured his view of employers, leaving him with only a slight twinge of remorse for his treasonous behaviour.

His Ladyship's voice pulled him out of his inwards musings and back to reality. He looked up at her from where he'd still been staring at the remaining notes clutched in his hand.

"Oh, while you are there, at Covent Garden, I'd like you to acquire a certain something for me," she asked him cryptically.

-

He eventually found a suitable grocer – one with decent produce and affordable rates. He agreed on a weekly delivery and paid a retainer fee for the commencement of said deliveries to start this week. He also managed to acquire two large pineapples. They smelt absolutely delicious! He'd ever actually tasted one, so he wondered to himself whether they tasted as good as they smelled. Now, after completing both of his errands in double quick time, he decided to spend his spare time ambling among the beautiful sights and scents of the magnificent floral displays. The flowers called to him with their gorgeous siren songs. He wandered aimlessly among the beguiling displays, losing himself in their beauty.

-

"Mr Turton, was it you who arranged for these flowers to be placed in here?" Mrs Morgan turned to Mr Turton, who was standing in his usual place over by the food at the side of the room. She pointed at the vase of flowers currently sitting in the middle of the dining room table as she entered the room. She walked nearer, to examine them, a smile widening on her face as she drew closer.

The flowers were arranged in a beautiful crystal vase that she'd not seen in a good long while. Not since her mother was alive at least, and she had passed on just before Edward was born, over eight years ago now.

The vase was brimming with beautiful pink roses and delicate white freesias. Their heady scent filled the room. It was the first thing that Mrs Morgan had noticed as she entered the room, the wall of fragrance hitting her as she passed through the threshold.

"Oh...er... yes, Ma'am. I hope you don't mind, Ma'am. They weren't that expensive, as I purchased them from a florist while I was in Covent Garden Market last week," he answered.

"Oh, of course I don't mind! Not in the slightest, they're truly wonderful! Thank you, Mr Turton! Truly!" She raised her hand and gently touched one of the delicate pink blooms, her smile turning wistful, tinged with sadness.

"There haven't been any flowers in this house for a great deal of time. My mother used to organise their delivery and would arrange them herself," she sighed, remembering past happinesses. "She'd spend hours fussing over them until they were displayed to her particular satisfaction. She helped with the displays in Westminster Abbey," she paused to explain. Then her attention moved to the delicate vase. "This was her favourite vase. A wedding present from my father I think," she looked up at Mr Turton. He was looking rather nervous.

"Oh, I found it locked away in a cupboard in my office. I hope you don't mind, Ma'am. I can get another if you'd prefer?"

"No need, Mr Turton. I'm glad it's been found; I'd honestly thought it was long lost. My mother would be so happy that it is being used again for its intended purpose and not just gathering dust," she beamed widely at him, conveying her thanks. It seemed to work as his worried frown vanished, replaced by a more contented look.

"Um… I can arrange for regular deliveries. That is, if you would be agreeable, Ma'am?" he asked, his face changed again to one of nervous hope, a small smile playing around his lips.

"Yes! I'd be more than agreeable, I'd be most delighted, Mr Turton!" she replied, smiling as she accepted his kind proposal.

Her head tilted to the side, a query writ on her face. "Did the florist arrange them too?"

"Er… nooo… they just delivered. I did the arrangement myself, Ma'am," he answered. He felt heat creeping up the back of his neck.

"Oh! Well, my mother would have greatly approved of your skill Mr, Turton. They are most agreeably arranged. Thank you," she beamed at him.

Mr Turton nodded. He felt the blush spreading up to cover his cheeks. He hoped that his mother would be proud that the skills she had taught him were put to good use after all these years.

"Um… the starter is ready, if you would like to proceed, Ma'am?" She nodded happily and seated herself. He turned around and fussed over getting the soup bowl ready for his Mistress. While he was occupied with preparing the starter, the two children were ushered into the dining room by Mrs Jones.

"Oh! What beautiful flowers, Ma'am!" Mrs Jones exclaimed.

"Aren't they just! All Mr Turton's doing," answered Mrs Morgan.

"Can I go and look please mummy?" asked Lucy quietly.

"You'll have to ask Mr Turton dear heart, as he arranged them especially," she said to her small daughter.

She crept over to where Mr Turton was stood, looking down at her shoes as she spoke.

"Canipleaselookattheflowerspleasemrturtonplease." The shyly mumbled something came out all in one rushed breath as the little girl stood in front of him and twisted her hands this way and that. Mr Turton assumed that it was the same as the earlier request aimed at her mother.

He placed the soup tureen back down and walked over to the table beckoning for the child to follow. She hopped from one foot to the other excitedly, her nose just level with the table. He reached to the empty chair beside her and pulled it out, motioning for her to climb upon it. She scrambled up, grabbing his hand and arm to pull herself up. She smiled shyly up at him. He leaned forward and slid the vase closer so that it was within her reach. She gasped and looked up at him for permission. He nodded down at her. She slowly reached forward and gingerly stroked a pink rose petal. Then leaned forwards and sniffed it. She sighed and beamed over at him, mirroring her mother's earlier joy.

He reached into his pocket and extracted the small pocketknife that he always kept there. He unfolded it and cut a small rose away. He'd already trimmed the thorns off while arranging them earlier so he knew it was safe to be handed over to the excited young girl. She squeaked happily at him, and a shy "Thank you!" was mumbled as she climbed back down and scurried back to her seat, all while clutching the rose tightly.

Mr Turton went back to his interrupted task of serving the soup. Once completed, he went to stand back at the side, in his usual place. He noted that the girl, Lucy, did not relinquish her tight clasp on the pretty pink rose.

Daisy chose that moment to arrive with the main course.

"Oh!" She exclaimed as she entered the room. "What lovely flowers, Ma'am," she uttered.

"From Mr Turton!" Lucy said, holding her prize aloft.

"Oh!" Daisy exclaimed. She looked at Mr Turton's stern frown, sending him sideways smiles as she unloaded the various dishes from her trolley onto the side table where he stood. She kept throwing him what he considered utterly ridiculous grins. He did his best to ignore her, staring off into the distance as he was trained to do. Daisy giggled. Mr Turton glared. Daisy stifled a rather loud giggle by clamping both hands over her mouth. Mr Turton huffed a breath out at her ridiculous behaviour. Daisy mumbled something about having forgotten the parsley sauce and rushed out of the room. Mr Turton noted that the sauce was sitting on the table behind him.

-

Dinner finished in the usual way, well, as usual as it could for that day. Lady Morgan escorted the children back to their nanny. Lucy, still tightly clutching her rose.

Mr Turton sighed as he tidied everything up onto Daisy's abandoned trolley. He knew that his secret passion was starting to not be so hidden any more… especially if Daisy had fled straight down to see Mrs Brown… but then he really had only himself to blame he thought, as he smiled over at the beautiful flowers sat on the table.

He just couldn't resist placing an impulsive order for a large bouquet of flowers there and then in the market. This was the first household in his long career where he'd felt the freedom to actually do something like that. To be free to act, outside the remit of his role, was something new. As a butler, he held dominion over his realm, that was true. But he still had to run every single decision, especially with regards to household decor or spending, through this Master or Mistress.

When he placed the order with the florist earlier in the week, he'd felt no twinge of misdeed or wrongness. Just a pleasurable glow in himself. It was a pleasing task to him most certainly, as he loved the flowers, but mostly he was acting to bring pleasure to others. To bring a small amount of happiness to his Mistress, and hopefully, to the other staff too. A small thank you for their welcome here.

He'd felt the freedom to act without fear of reprimand for frivolously spending household money. That was something he'd never felt before: freedom from fear, but also, freedom from hiding his feelings behind his previously stony cold heart.

-

"Ah, Mr Turton," Mrs Brown addressed him as he finally sat at the head of the table in the servants dining room. "We've a proper treat for pudding today. Fresh pineapple!"

"What?" his mouth dropped and his eyes widened. "That can't be correct? At the price they cost? Servants wouldn't be allowed to eat them!" he shook his head.

"Not ordinarily," Mrs Brown said, "but you keep forgetting how the Mistress isn't any normal mistress. Now then, Mr Turton, you eat your dinner like a good boy, or no pudding!" she smirked at him. Daisy clamped her hands over her mouth, but a small high-pitched squeak escaped. Mr and Mrs Jones outright chuckled. Mr Turton spluttered.

"Thank you, Mrs Brown!" he seethed. "You may proceed with serving dinner."

He was wrong. The pineapple didn't taste as good as it smelt. It tasted so much better! He closed his eyes as he took another mouthful, his last piece, letting the chunk of delicious fruit roll around his tongue slowly, savouring the flavour, making it last. He opened his eyes to find them all smiling at him.

"You should smile more often, Mr Turton. It knocks years off you," she winked at him.

He tutted and rolled his eyes, but this time, his chuckles added to the laughter of the others.

"You'll all be pleased to know that I've candied the rest of the fruit. It’ll be going into this year's Christmas cake," Mrs Brown announced as her and Daisy cleared all the plates away.

-

Mr Turton made his way upstairs. He knew where the Mistress would usually be at this time of evening, not that he needed to search for long, even if he didn't, he just had to follow the delightful piano music. There were odd pauses as she played though. Not the usual smooth tune.

He stood in the doorway and coughed his arrival. Lady Morgan looked up and smiled at him. Her playing ceased.

"Mr Turton? Is something amiss?" she asked.

"No Ma'am." He took some steps further into the room. "I just wanted to say thank you. For the pineapple. Most would have kept them hidden from their servants," he added. His fingers fidgeted behind his back. He clasped his hands firmly together before continuing. "Er… I've never actually tasted it before," he finally admitted.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "And did you find it pleasant?" she asked.

"Very much so," he said. A small smile played about his face. One side of his mouth lifted upwards, but the opposite side remained stubborn.

"No need to hide your smiles in this house, Mr Turton," she teased him. "Now, while you are here, and if you're not busy, could I possibly ask for your assistance?" she asked.

"Certainly, Ma'am. How may I help?"

Lady Morgan's beckon drew him over, pulling him closer to her, to stand next to where she was seated. He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow in query.

"If you would be so kind as to turn the pages of music as I play please, Mr Turton, it would aid me greatly. It's a new song and I don't know it off by heart yet," she said.

"Of course, Ma'am." He nodded down at her as she hovered her fingers over the piano keys.

Mrs Morgan beamed up at him as she played, and Mr Turton found himself quite happily smiling back, his happiness mirroring her own.

Beautiful piano music filled the house, but this time, the music was no longer filled with pauses. It was also accompanied by two sets of laughter, one bright and tinkling, the other set was deeper, rough from lack of use.

-

As he completed his nightly rounds, Mr Turton thought back on the day. How his love of flowers was not the only hidden thing that was no longer so. His feelings were finally freeing themselves, no longer caged away. The need to hide behind protocol to protect himself was no longer necessary. There wasn't much need for that here; they all knew his background anyway. Freed from this burden, and secure in his place, he now actually freely felt himself wanting to smile. Not just a disapproving smirk, but a proper smile of pleasure. His smile was no longer a timid, shy creature hiding away behind his frown, or just reserved for the beautiful flowers. It was now peering out, still a careful little thing, only revealing itself slowly for others to see, but it was being gently teased out more often now.

This household was definitely changing him. For the better, he hoped.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.ftd.com/blog/share/rose-meaning-and-symbolism# - ten roses for Mr Turton I think... 
> 
> Pink roses = symbolize gratitude, grace, admiration, and joy.  
> White freesias = symbolize purity and innocence.


End file.
